


Sickly Sweet Summer Heat

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Bandom - Freeform, Ice Cream, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ryden, theyre in high school thats why i have it tagged as underage js
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryan passes the malt to Brendon and definitely doesn’t watch the other boy’s chapped lips wrap around the straw.Brendon’s eyes flutter shut as he gulps. Then they snap open, pupils blown.“Marry me.” He demands.“Wh-” Ryan splutters, cheeks flushing crimson.“Marry me!”“Um, no.”--Ryden Ice Cream Shop AUAbandoned as of 6/22/17





	

**Author's Note:**

> i need help. specifically in the shape of dallon weekes.  
> this is short bc i wrote it at work, on our order pad. oops.

 

Ryan Ross was dying. Or at least, he was convinced he was. The shop had been deserted for the past two hours. He had managed to keep himself busy by watching other people’s friday nights through snapchat and cleaning equipment. But there was only so much sweeping one man could handle before he begins to lose his mind. Ryan debates closing up early. He decides against it and wipes down the counter for the fifth time in the past thirty minutes. He was  _ dying _ .

The owners, whose names he--in his near four years of working here--had never fully attempted to remember, were out of town for the weekend. They had entrusted Ryan with the keys to their tiny shop, asking him to run the place until they got back. The teen didn’t mind it though. Running the place just meant free range to shop’s stereo and as many breaks as he desired. In the present, Ryan hums along to a Smith’s song playing quietly in the background. He perches himself on his stool behind the register and allows his head to drop to the counter with a muffled  _ thud _ .

The door swings open with a bang and Ryan’s head snaps back up. The first thing he notices about the customer is that he reeks of weed. The second is that he’s gorgeous. Ryan groans internally. He had a hard enough time dealing with customers that had the munchies to begin with. Dealing with attractive customers who happened to also have the munchies was a recipe for disaster. The boy grins lazily at him. 

Ryan sighs.

“Hey, what can I get for you tonight?’

The boy freezes.

“Uh,” he says, looking lost.

Ryan bites his cheek to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret. He glances at the boy, taking in his appearance. He smirks knowingly.

“How about a chocolate-marshmallow malt?”

The boy’s eyes light up. He nods enthusiastically. 

Ryan rolls his eyes and rings the kid up. 

“I’m Brendon,” the boy informs Ryan as he gets to work on the malt.

“Nice.” He grunts, scooping marshmallow sauce into the cup.

Brendon’s eyes follow Ryan’s hands as he adds malted milk to the mix.

He clears his throat.

“What’s your name?”

Ryan glances up at him and fights off a smile.

“Shawn.”

Brendon shakes his head. 

“You don’t look like a Shawn,” He says accusingly.

Ryan shrugs, chuckling as he turns to blend the malt.

“Please dude? Tell me your name,” Brendon whines.

Ryan turns around, grabbing whipcream to top it off.

“It’s Ryan,” he mumbles, and if his stomach flips when Brendon cheers, well, he just blames it on the sundae he had made himself earlier.

Ryan passes the malt to Brendon and definitely doesn’t watch the other boy’s chapped lips wrap around the straw.

Brendon’s eyes flutter shut as he gulps. Then they snap open, pupils blown. 

“Marry me.” He demands.

“Wh-” Ryan splutters, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Marry me!”

“Um, no.”

Brendon pouts, bottom lip jutting out comically. Ryan busies himself with cleaning the mixing machine. When he glances up again Brendon is smiling. His stomach does another flip. 

“Fine, no marriage. But at least give me your number?”

“What? No dude.” Ryan shakes his head.

“Come on, please? What if I have an emergency and I need another uh--” He pauses and gestures to his malt.

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“You know where I work.”

Brendon pouts again, looking up at him through dark eyelashes. Ryan’s breath catches. He curses to himself.

“Okay fine,” he ignores Brendon’s whoop of excitement, “but no texting me while you’re stoned! Oh and by the way, you reek.”

Brendon rolls his eyes and passes Ryan his phone.

\--

Five minutes later Brendon Urie leaves the tiny ice cream shop with a half finished malt and a quickly developing infatuation with the cute boy behind the counter.


End file.
